


it comes like waves (and i can't breathe)

by hiatus



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Humor, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-15 13:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15413880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiatus/pseuds/hiatus
Summary: People misunderstood all the time.Or alternatively: Five times the kids wondered why Steve's hanging out with Billy, and one time only Max knew the answer to it.





	1. The Kids

**Author's Note:**

> I should continue my Hannibal fic - but yeah. Have this instead. Got this down in five hours so... unbeta'd. 
> 
> The title came from Meg Myers - Jealous Sea, which doesn't really have anything to do with this story but I like the song, dammit.

 

 

 

_i. Dustin_

 

It was supposed to be a simple routine; Dustin waits by the school entrance, and Steve picks him up at four o’clock sharp.

The curly-haired thirteen years old trusted Steve to have this babysitting schedule thing down – the older teenager was a natural at it, no matter how much scoffs he’s gotten whenever he said it to his face. Dustin also knew that although Steve came into the job reluctant as shit when his mom persuaded him to, he relented just as quick. Like five seconds quick, maybe even less. Dustin liked to think it was because Steve couldn’t resist his pearls. No one _ever_ , resisted his pearls.

But it was striking four-thirty, and Steve was nowhere in sight. This was a first, and Dustin felt miffed because he liked to feel important, dammit, and that meant he expected Steve to be here by now. Like, _now_.

The party didn’t have meetings at AV Club today because they were up late the other night building a new campaign. It was hectic, to say the least. Max and El couldn’t seem to be in an arrangement that could satisfy anyone involved. It was becoming out of control when things started to float around El that Will suggested an end to the night. A wise move. They opted out to discussing it tonight though.

 _But Steve was late_.

He was ready to throw random pebbles to the other side of the road when he noticed Max was skating near the front park. He went to her, perplexed that her asshole brother hadn’t yet picked her up too. Billy was _way_ punctual than Steve, and that saying something. He also needed assurance that Steve’s lateness validated his frustration – but Max probably wouldn’t care. Still wouldn’t hurt to try though.

“Hey, Max!” Dustin called, waving his hand enthusiastically.

Max turned her head and upon realising who it was, skated to Dustin.

“Thought you went home already?” he asked, a second too late when he realised how stupid that question was.

Max shook her head exasperatedly, face scrunching. _Duh,_ it said. “Apparently not,” she huffed.

 _Oh, oh so she’s pissed off too!_ Dustin cheered silently. He was about to open his mouth to start complaining about Steve when there were tires screeching near them. A blue Camaro made its appearance and Dustin tried not to make a crestfallen face that it wasn’t Steve.

Except when the passenger window open and it was actually _Steve_ , guiltily greeting them. Dustin looked at Max in disbelief, mouthing, _what the fuck?_ She shrugged, feeling suspicious herself.

“Hey, Dustin. Sorry I’m late. Got caught up in practice – injured my ankle, couldn’t drive, so. Billy is giving us a ride home though, so… hop in?”

Steve looked genuinely troubled. Like he was in pain; probably was, and not just the physical. Dustin knew Max’s brother was not one to fuck around, but if he said he’d give them a ride, it’d be better to obey.

Max went in first, chucking her skateboard under her arm and Dustin followed after. Out of all people in Hawkins, why did it have to be Billy? Dustin shook his head. Best he asks Steve later.

At least he had enough time to prepare for tonight’s campaign.

 

 

_ii. Lucas_

 

Lucas was waiting for Max to give her the formulas for math equations that she asked for during class when he noticed. Not Max, sadly, but of her brother.

The arcade was probably not the best place to pass homework or the sorts, but Max reasoned they were killing two birds with one stone, so Lucas agreed simply because that phrase sounded so cool when she said it. He had it bad he wasn’t even trying to deny it.

He spotted Max getting out of the car from the backseat, murmuring something to her brother, wearing a scathing expression. The other sibling was obviously unimpressed, but strangely enough, backed off when she said something out of Lucas’s earshot.

Granted, the siblings didn’t even realise his presence, what’s with the current distance between them and him hiding by the alcove near it, still wary of Max’s brother if they happened to make eye contact. This put Lucas in a blind-spot not even Max was aware of – which was a stupid position, honestly. It couldn’t be helped that Lucas was still scared of Billy’s presence.

So he watched, fascinated when it appeared that there was someone in the front seat. Probably one of Billy’s girlfriends, and the reason why Max was in the backseat and obviously annoyed. Billy had done it before, and Max wasn’t always thrilled with the situation.

He squinted out of curiosity though, trying to figure out who… was… the unlucky… – _Steve_? Lucas frowned. He recognized that pompous hair just fine, but, _seriously_? Why the hell Steve was hanging out with the guy who _beat_ his face in? It didn’t make sense. He knew they were on the basketball team together, but that was just _weird_. Justifiably.

His eyes widened when as soon as Max was out of his brother’s eyesight and went into the arcade stomping, Billy was leaning across to Steve. Like… like… they were about to kis—holy _shit._ His eyes widened comically, and feeling brave all of a sudden, pulled out his binoculars and watched like the _stalker_ Max always said he was.

One of Steve’s hand was on Billy’s shoulder, as if pulling the other boy in. Steve’s face was totally covered by Billy’s head, although Lucas could see the chocolate fountain that was Steve’s ridiculous hair. It didn’t look very comfortable for Billy to be leaning like that. Billy had his left hand on the passenger door, the position was more like bracing against it than to open the door.

The moment Billy pulled back, his face turned toward where Lucas was, eyes zeroed in on the boy with such exact precision and steeliness (he might feel a little impressed by that), Lucas had had about it and scrambled after Max and fumblingly went into the arcade, his heart beating wildly.

 _That was definitely something to ask the gang,_ he thought, out of breath and calculative as to why would Steve allowed himself to be kissed by the asshole brute.

 

 

_iii. Will_

 

Not contrary to popular belief, Will sometimes like to mind his own business. Ever since the Mind Flayer episodes, he kept certain things to himself – not because he didn’t trust his friends or his family. He just liked being alone and think within his own space; it was one of the reasons why the party made him Will the Wise.

He figured that sometimes there was too many thoughts and speeches intruding his brain, and felt exhausted. He assured his family and friends that it wasn’t anything about the Upside-Down anymore.

He was always a quiet boy before he knew Mike, Lucas, and Dustin, his mom knew this. It never changed even _after_ he knew them. Ever since the closing of the gate, they would always feel concern about him, constantly hovering and generally being overprotective – it felt like he was back in the Mind Flayer crutches _again_. It didn’t matter that El – _Jane_ – said it was nothing to worry about anymore.

He wanted to be mad, but all of them were doing their best to be a comforting presence that it began to smother his personal sphere, and so he only let himself be frustrated instead.

Will craved an independence so bad that he found himself strolling by himself in the Hawkins High School basketball court. Thankfully, it wasn’t that far from their Middle School and the gang didn’t have any plans for today or tonight. He said to himself that he needed this time for himself; he always dreamed about being a basketballer – which his friends didn’t know about, not even his brother.

It was a secret he didn’t want to spoil, that he carefully guarded, simply because he was unsure himself. He didn’t exactly have the best social skills out there, and grinding against opponents in sport gave him hives. He was trying to overcome it though; he had been in the Upside-Down mindset too often that he reasoned he had to give the thought to playing basketball a chance – just an idea to look forward to in the future.

It was an entertaining thought. Until he passed by the locker room for the team – separated from the school’s hallways – grabbing a wayward ball and heard somebody wincing in pain.

“Fuck, slow down,” Steve hissed.

 _Oh, Steve’s here!_ Will thought excitedly. He was about to greet the older boy when –

“Alright, okay, sorry,” Billy soothed.

 _Oh._ Will thought dreadfully.

There were slippery sounds, like someone was doing some intense – rubbing? Will jumped when he heard Steve breaths hitched minutely as it echoed throughout the locker room, like he couldn’t contain himself from making a sound, like he couldn’t be heard –

It took Will awhile to recognize the situation for what it was and immediately bolted out of the basketball court, his face beet red.

His thought while biking speedily back to his house was, _they are just like me,_ and anything concerning basketball was forgotten. Another secret to keep, and Will was glowingly enthusiastic about it.

 

 

_iv. Mike_

 

Mike didn’t like parties, but it seemed Nancy had another idea about it. Okay, so, _maybe_ , it wasn’t that kind of wild party he always heard about. _Close friends party_ , Nancy had said. Something about a school club meeting and a change of air without being in the vicinity of the school. It was pretty modest, to be honest.

There were probably fifteen people, tops, scattering their house. Mom and Dad surprisingly gave their permission for the meet-up, while they went for a trip to some relative’s house – out of state and not really his concern.

The problem was, Nancy’s party clashed with their campaign night. Sure, they kept things in the basement for reasons such as this – to not be disturbed. But El – Jane, _Jane_ , he thought dopily – seemed pretty persistent about doing certain things upstairs in the hall. At least part of the role that required the other presence to _not_ be in the basement; it was complicated. Being a Mage was complicated.

Something about recliner was necessary – Dustin said a Mage would _totally_ need a recliner, _the vibes are important Mike, come on._

Only that none of them were helping him figure out how exactly he was supposed to bring down the recliner. Using El’s power was out of the question; that could spook Nancy’s guests. _Ugh, why it had to be today, Nance??_ And the rest of the party was blatantly ignoring his cry for help, each busying themselves with their appointed tasks.

 _Listen to your girlfriend, Mike,_ Lucas said flippantly.

 _Listen to your best friend, Mike,_ Max said cheerfully.

Will just smiled, apparently finding it amusing to see Mike fulfill his girlfriend request, how impossible that was.

Dustin tried to say something but Mike huffed loudly before going upstairs. He went to the kitchen to figure something out – to impress Jane without doing the impressing. He was about to get a glass to drink when a bang came from the coat closet. Gulping nervously, Mike had a second thought about the gate opening again, and that it might be a Demogorgon in it.

He went to the knives perched on the counter, grabbed the biggest one and slowly walked to the door. It rattled noisily and Mike wondered why everyone seemed to ignore the sounds. He was ready to strike when the door opened, revealing one Steve Harrington and was that – _was that Billy Hargrove?_

They were out of breaths when they stepped out of the closet, and appropriately surprised when they saw Mike holding a knife as wide as his forearm. “Fuckin’ _hell_ , you scared the _shit_ outta me, kid,” Steve sighed, clutching his chest like there were non-existence pearls there. Billy expression was confused when he came behind Steve to inspect the situation.

“ _You_ scared the _shit –_ ”

“ _Language_.”

“– outta _me_ , _assholes_ ,” Mike fumed. He honestly thought it was another escaped Demogorgon. Hindsight, he should’ve called the others. Even Nancy. But stupid Steve and, “Why the hell are you in the closet with that guy?” Mike hissed, disgruntled. He didn’t like Billy because, well, it was _Billy_. But apparently, Nancy liked him enough to invite the _mouthbreather_ to the party.

And Steve was slow to give a response when Billy said, “We were just hanging our _jackets_ , Jesus Christ. Are the Wheelers this suspicious as shit? At least their Mom was _nice_ ,” he snorted and went in the direction of the hall, Steve trailing after the blond, and Mike was left gaping and seething after them.

 

 

_v. Eleven/Jane_

Jane made a mistake. Her distressed look explained everything, and everyone wasn’t in a place to question it.

When Hopper gave the news, they didn’t expect it would get out of control. The gate _was_ closed, Hopper witnessed to that at the cost of Jane’s own _life_. But apparently closing the big one only allowed a smaller, harder to detect portals to the Upside-Down to open – or like Dustin had said, bursting bubbles from the inside out. He wasn’t far-fetched, and Jane took it as a personal failure.

It didn’t sit well with her when they discovered the portals simultaneously, growing like mushrooms across the forest. Mostly the forest. But the first time Jane had exited from the place it had been in the school – it could literally be anywhere now. And it frustrated her that she was the reason everyone had been antsy and on edge.

They were just escaping from burning all the portals they managed to find, and a couple of demodogs managed to get out before Jane broke their necks and threw them across the forest ground, before lifting them again into the portal. Jane knew she had to practice her powers more to be able to protect her family, and Mike. Mike who always had tissue at the ready when her nose bled, who was willing to stand for her when even Hopper – _Dad_ , she smiled ruefully – had gotten tired of her one word answers.

But she didn’t expect a newcomer into their dynamics and secrets. Max’s brother. The first time she met him, she detected that he wasn’t a bad person, but there was something awfully morose about the boy, a twinge of violent that was _nurtured_. Just like Jane used to be treated. Just like Papa used to make her do things she didn’t want to. But this boy – Billy – _allowed_ himself to be violent. And that made a difference in Jane’s eyes. She wasn’t… wary, but she was cautious.

Until moments ago. She didn’t realize that there was a newly emerged demodog approaching her from behind, too focused on figuring out where else the portals might sprout. Everyone was scattered in the forest to help looking, and Jane was left on her own devices because she insisted to be. But she listened hard to a crunching sound of the leaves, of somebody swinging something in the air and coming into contact with a slimy, splat sound of a thick surface.

When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see that it was _Billy_ who had her back (and still pounding at the dead flesh of a demodog with furious intensity). He wasn’t with anyone, yet she heard Steve coming closer. The other boy was running over to where Billy was and upon arriving, _slapped_ Billy right when Billy was straightening up from crouching.

Jane stared. And blinked in dumbfound. What was _that_ all about?

“You took my fucking _bat_ , you fucking asshole!” Steve screamed at Billy. Before Billy could say anything Steve launched himself at Billy, and Jane's eyes widened even more. Because it wasn’t to _punch_ , but to _hug_. Steve was hugging Billy in front of her, shaking and shivering, arms wrapped tightly around Billy’s neck.

Billy dropped the bat he was holding and hugged Steve back, just as tight. Jane could see that Steve’s tremble slowly dissipate. Jane cocked her head to the side, extremely confused by the scene in front of her. As if on cue, Billy’s eyes opened and Jane found herself staring at determined blues. She knew that look.

_Protectiveness. Possessiveness._

She understood then.

Billy’s violence might be far different from hers, but the reasonings were all the same.

 

 

_+i. Max_

 

“You’re going to confuse him,” Max said. Her eyes straying to where Billy was calmly driving, no less fast than before.

“So you say,” the older boy replied uninterestedly.

“I’m serious. You’re gonna get in trouble,” she insisted, arms crossing.

Billy allowed her a glance, and back to the traffic-less road. Fucking Hawkins. “And you care about this, why?”

“I know you want him,” she said, eyes hard. Trying to be equal to Billy’s eyes. She could, but not yet.

Billy chuckled lowly, throwing the bud out of the window car and shook his head. The motion made his blond curls disarrayed – a look he was going for. “Seriously. Why. Do you _care_?”

“I just – !” she grunted, trying to explain. “He wants you _too_ , I can _tell_ ,” she said in the end.

Billy paused at that, swallowed. Max took notice and let out a tiny smirk. “I saw how he looked at you, Billy,” she taunted, whispered like there might be someone else on in the secret. “I saw how you changed because of him. And not – just because of me,” she said, idle in her threat. Billy was impressed. It had been months since the Byer’s throw down. Didn’t think she could keep that threat in line.

“Wasn’t gonna do anything to him,” he said finally, voice an octave lower.

Max snorted. “Yeah, and what then? He’s _pining_ , Billy, Jesus,” she shook her head in disappointment.

“The _fuck_ you want me to do, then?! You want me to stay away from him, and the next minute said I’m gonna be in trouble for it! Fuckin’ _hell_.” Billy seethed, struggled to flick another cigarette out of its case, promptly threw it somewhere in the car.

“He’s a good person, Billy! But he’s a fucking idiot! He doesn’t know about your – your _feelings_ about him!”

“Oh like it would go so _well_ if I _do_ tell him, right?”

“I don’t _know_. I just know he likes you the same way you likes him too! God knows how fucked up it was to fall for the person who smashed your face like a pumpkin.”

“I did that to pr –”

“– protect me, yes, exactly! Like all the violence was _necessary_ for the sake of _protecting_.”

“You don’t know adults, you dipshit. What am I supposed to think?!”

“I know adults, alright! I know Neil _beat_ you every once in a while when you and him didn’t think I’d _noticed_! I know my mom did _jack shit_ to stop him either!”

Billy punched the steering wheel hard enough to jar it, stopped by the roadside, and pulled his gear to park.

“Stop this,” Billy warned. His eyes were blurry – he knew Max saw it glistening.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sincere. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “I’m sorry Neil did that to you. But I’m not sorry when I say you need someone. And Steve is – he’s the only one you look at now. I saw, Billy. You and him. Fucking hell, just _confess_ or something.” Her words came to a near-whisper by the end of it.

Billy had his face tucked in his arms, propped by the steering wheel. He wasn’t crying. Wasn’t gonna. He breathed heavily, shook to his core that a conversation with a thirteen years old could result to _this_.

“Neil can’t know about this,” he said, finality in his wavering voice. Putting on an indifference face.

Max smiled. Genuine in its simplicity, but the gesture grand all the same.

A promise.

 

 

 


	2. The Boys (Before Dustin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve fell hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm crying. My hand slipped. This thing is a Demogorgon now. Aaaaaaaaa. T_T 
> 
> I've been meaning to do under 2k worth of words for the boys POVs to cover up the _entirety_ of the chapter before, like, a plan for pure PWP. It didn't happen, guys, you're seeing it. So you get a 2k+ worth of the boys POVs _each_ before the kids made their wild assumptions.
> 
> I'm already at Will's encounter, I think I'll be able to finish it sometime on the weekend. Fingers crossed, ack.
> 
> The last chapter would obviously be The Kids vs The Boys aka The Awaited Confrontation. 
> 
> AND not to forget: thanking y'all for the kudos and comments!!! You guys are lovely as heck <3
> 
> p/s: I'm gonna say this once that this story is poorly researched: be it in terms of US schooling system in the 80's, medical attention written like whoa, it's honestly bad, and idek if there _was_ a school clinic. I would be grateful if you wanted to point out the misinformation _while being nice about it_ , bc I just, don't have it in me to do it. I don't condone being uninformed all the time, but the story wanted _out_ before I could click google, so.
> 
> p/s2: this story could have possible OOCness, so beware of that? Switching POVs between Billy and Steve, bc why not? Unbeta'd because how else am I gonna brave the wild out here? (jk I could use one, though.)

 

 

 

Coach had been harsh.

Scratch that, he’d been damn near _impossible_.

Four laps in under three minutes? _Fucking unreal_.

He wanted to admit it was his own damn fault, but then again, Hargrove seemed pretty adamant in making an enemy out of him – and on better days, Steve would concede trying him one on one, despite the months' old encounter at the Byers’s and having his ass handed to him. He wasn’t _gagging_ for fights, don’t get him wrong.

It really wasn’t that easy to rile him up; he admitted that he was soft when it came to taunts and jeers, maybe a little bit passive about it – Tommy and Carol used to have that covered for him – never one to be the first aggressor. Never one to be the first to strike. But some days it just took the fucking cake.

 _Hargrove_ took it as a challenge. Took it as a damn permission to grate on his nerves a little bit than the usual. So he snapped. He punched first.

Of fucking course Hargrove had fast reflexes and stepped aside before it could land.

Which meant bad news for Steve, because he twisted the wrong way, _and didn’t plant his fucking feet_. He fell hard.

He shouted out of surprise when he felt unbearable pain. Jesus it _hurt_. He knew his groan was agonising when Coach had the team dispersed, ending the practice for today. Fucking _finally_.

He scrambled up on his elbows, legs unmoving. He panted loudly because the pain didn’t recede and _it hurt like a bitch_.

The strange part of the whole ordeal was that Hargrove was the one who knelt by his legs, followed by the Coach, looking it over. If Steve wasn’t in so much pain, he’d notice how guilty the other boy looked.

He also didn’t realise that the hand when it came into contact with his foot, was Hargrove’s.

“It’s sprained,” Hargrove said, out of breath himself. _Four laps under three minutes would do that to you_ , Steve thought fleetingly.

Coach muttered something about boys being stupid and careless, but Steve was more focused on Hargrove. He rolled his eyes.

“Wow, really? How the hell that happened?”

“How many times did I tell you to plant your damn feet, Harrington,” Hargrove replied, terribly unconcerned about the sarcasm. Which sucks because then what’s the point? Except his hand didn’t once leave Steve’s foot. He was cradling it so gently that Steve’s distracted, and realised Coach had appointed Hargrove to take him to the school clinic, before its closing time.

“What – I can go by myself!” he protested.

Coach gave him such a withering look, Steve felt a bloom rising on his cheeks. Well, yeah. Okay, that sounded stupid. He glanced warily at Hargrove, who didn’t as much as budge from his spot, propping his foot up a little. Steve realised that Hargrove was waiting for him to get his bearings back – and it, maybe, sort of, _kinda_ , did things to his chest?

“Jesus, fine, alright. Help me up, then,” he mumbled, knowing how his reddening cheeks would come across to the both of them. Thank fuck he could excuse it as a result of post-run.

Hargrove laid his foot back on the floor – which made Steve winced – and positioned his arms each under Steve’s back and knees. Which was strange before he recognised the stance, and promptly pushed the other boy to a stop before he could do it properly.

“What the _hell_ , Hargrove. I don’t need you to bridal-carry me, for fuck’s sake,” he hissed.

“Then _how_ the _fuck_ –.”

Steve winded one arm across the blond’s shoulder. “ _Like this_. Now, up.”

Hargrove rolled his eyes, muttering about bossy idiots that sprained their ankles because they couldn’t damn well plant their feet. It was getting repetitive to hear at this point, so Steve ignored it as per usual. One of Hargrove’s arm circled his waist for support, and Steve’s annoyingly had a hard time ignoring the bulging muscle against his body.

The walk to the school clinic was quiet, just their slow shuffles of feet against the linoleum floor. Hargrove made it a point to walk faster when it felt too slow, and so carried most of Steve’s weight the rest of their destination. The brunette would be astounded if he didn’t harbour such intense annoyance at the blond for the move.

The nurse yapped at them both when they arrived, but inspected Steve’s foot anyway. One of his ankles was looking oddly swelled, blooming faint red. It looked nasty, honestly. He knew it would bloom to hideous purple, and wondered how long it’d be to heal for Coach to let him join practice again.

Steve belatedly realised when the nurse made the last wrap for the bandage that he had babysitting duty today. Oh dammit. _Dustin going to be pissed_ , he thought.

“What time is it?” he asked out of context; the nurse had been explaining care routine for the sprain, and closed her mouth disapprovingly at being cut off mid-explanation.

It was Hargrove who answered. “Four-fifteen,” he said, leaning against the wall by the clinic’s bed. Steve raised his eyebrows, jumping at the sound – he didn’t think Hargrove would actually _stay_. He knew he stared a little too long at the other teen when he shifted uncomfortably. _Hah, just that to make him uncomfortable?_

“I have to pick up Dustin,” he said. Again, out of nowhere. Billy raised his own eyebrows. Waited. Somehow it was a game of eyebrows. Hargrove’s winning, though. Steve cleared his throat. “I can’t exactly drive… like this,” he said slowly, like the boy might not get it.

Steve _knew_ Hargrove got it. He damn well received the hint. Didn’t make it less comfortable to ask for help.

“So…” Steve tried again, albeit weakly. He wouldn’t admit at making pitiful eyes at _Hargrove_ , but if it worked, then why the fuck not?

If Hargrove wouldn’t want to, he’d have to ask Dustin’s teacher to tell him Steve wouldn’t be able to pick him up, and maybe ask Byers, since he had a car, or even Mrs. Byers, since it was Byers’ mom who also had a car, but she was working though, so –

“Fine. You done? Let’s get then,” Hargrove said, walking forward to Steve.

“Yeah!” he nodded quickly, eyeing the nurse, who sighed and nodded her assent. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go. Let’s, ok, um, a little help?” he asked lamely.

Hargrove shook his head, somehow managing to look both constipated and relieved at the same time. Steve didn’t want to make anything of that.

 

 

: : :

 

 

 _Harrington’s eyes are ridiculous,_ Billy thought privately.

It wasn’t necessary for him to bat his eyes _like that_. Billy didn’t think it’d make his heart beat a little wild, but there you go. Stupid.

When he watched the brunette fall, he had been ready to catch him. Except that between the scant minutes of trying to, Harrington had forgotten to plant his fucking feet. So he fell like the simpleton he was. The thud was unpleasant, and it proved to be true when the other teen cried in pain.

It wasn’t a good sound, and Billy’s chest constricted. He had no time to ponder about what that meant when he scooted over to the boy’s legs, gauging the extent of the injury.

“It’s sprained,” he heard his own voice declare. He was out of breath, but nothing compared to Harrington’s worrisome intake of breaths. He really had that look of ‘feeling extreme pain’ down. Billy was impressed, kind of. He took the boy’s leg in hand, careful and a little breathless looking at the delicate-looking limb – again, he had no time to think about what that _meant_.

The snarky respond he received was cute – but unoriginal as fuck. He mentally tried to be in the position of giving weak sarcasm like that, and figured it was not worth it.

Then Coach asked him to carry Harrington to the school clinic, and he wanted to said hell the fuck no, but admitted to himself he was one contradictory motherfucker, so he shrugged in acceptance. Glad to know Harrington had trouble accepting it either, but then again, he was so weak against argument it was painful to watch.

Billy tried to carry him bridal style, figured it was easier like that – ignoring the niggling at the back of his mind about wanting to do it out of pleasure – but Harrington was, well, bossy. He ended up carrying the boy like… normal? Buddy-buddy stance?

He still got to cop a feel when he snaked his arm around Harrington’s waist, though. He wasn’t gonna try to know what that meant, either. Still, Harrington’s so fucking _thin_ it took everything in Billy’s power not to break the guy.

They walked to the school clinic silently, and it suited just fine with Billy. It was terribly slow walk too, and Billy had had enough when he decided to _drag_ the other boy along, ignoring his surprise. They reached the clinic and Billy for the lack of anything better to do, suddenly overcame with cluelessness. He had no idea if he should stay or not. He watched quietly at the scene where the nurse was giving Harrington a hard time, constant pieces of advice on taking precaution while doing sport; the usual.

But Harrington had the distant look on his face when he thought people like Billy wouldn’t notice. He asked what time was it. Billy answered when the nurse wouldn’t, inwardly gleeful by the surprised face Harrington sporting. Clearly he hadn’t realise that Billy was there.

He should close his mouth – it was getting embarrassing except that his stare hadn’t died down. So maybe, _maybe_ Billy was a little bit unnerved by it. It was unexpected, he reasoned. _He_ could stare anyone down, if he so chose to.  But Harrington’s stare was… mesmerising. Nope, not trying to know what that fucking meant. Fucking Harrington with his stupid, sweaty hair and stupid, doe eyes.

And then, Harrington did it again. Pleaded for help. With the _all_ eyes. Jesus fucking Christ, it fucking _sparkled_. Billy _knew_ he’d caved in. Knew Harrington did it because he was out of options, here, literally. And it was only _Billy_ there – the earliest convenience he could get. So Billy caved like a dumbass he was, feeling slightly defeated, but no less disgruntled about it.

Harrington was visibly relieved when Billy said, “Fine. You done? Let’s get, then.” He was a little terse about it, but then again everything seemed terse with Harrington here. Fuck if he knew why. He carried him again to the school parking lot, deftly arranged him in the front seat, yet received complains about how the boy’s belonging still in the school, _they ought to get that, Har-grove, are you fucking serious? My homework’s in there, I have essays to be done—_

“Fuck. _I’m going to_! Would you just _shut the fuck up_? I’m not carrying you _back inside_ ,” he shouted in frustration. He hadn’t really meant to lose his cool like that, but Steve’s small satisfied smirk gave it away that it was his intention all along to rile him up.

“Mouthy little shit,” he muttered disbelievingly. He still went to get _their_ belongings, then get back to the car where he shoved their things on the other teen’s lap. Served him right. Billy’s books weigh a _ton_. Harrington made a displeased face, and Billy shook his head.

He lighted a cigarette before driving away out of the parking lot and towards Hawkins Middle School. It wasn’t like he didn’t have his own duty to be done – Max was probably waiting and plotting his demise. Frankly, he had forgotten about her the moment Harrington fell and injured himself. It said something about himself, no?

But that wasn’t the point here, was it?

“What point?”

Billy startled. Fuck. Did he say it out loud? “None of your concern, Harrington,” he answered after a while.

“You drive like a maniac,” Harrington replied, non-sequitur.

Billy scoffed. “I’m doing you a favour here, Harrington. Be at your best behaviour, now,” he said.

Harrington grimaced at the faux-sweet tone. “Yeah, fine. I owe you one,” he said, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his shirt. The thing was fraying at the end. He’d ruin the threads if he pulled at the thing any harder. Billy wasn’t going to mention the uneasy ticks he made with his fingers. Jesus. _Delicate limbs._

“That you do,” Billy said, satisfied. Puffed the smoke out. Light another cigarette.

“You smoke a lot,” Harrington mentioned.

“You my girlfriend now, Harrington?” Billy chuckled, unexpectedly amused by the question.

“Yeah, no. I just meant – you’re doing sport,” the brunette explained. Inefficiently.

“What of it? You saying you’re not smoking while doing sport, that it?”

“Well – I don’t smoke that much,” he muttered, pouting like a petulant child. Seriously. _Pouting_?

“Bullshit.”

Billy waited, except that nothing came after that. He heard Harrington huffed though.

Billy sighed, didn’t know why he’d feel the need to explain this to the other teen, but, “It’s my second bud of the day.”

Harrington stared at him, a second too long and nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with the information.

The air felt suddenly easier after that.

 

 

+


	3. The Boys (Before Lucas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long story short: I had no internet, got a busy weekend, the internet was back, binge-watched b99 for multiple reasons when stranger things were mentioned in one of the episodes, which made me realised I was _actually_ procrastinating on posting this.
> 
> That's it, the whole explanation.
> 
> p/s: there's a song title from Meg Myers in here, bc I cannot get over her dark, intently psychotic, consuming songs.
> 
> p/s2: Is not doing explicit research still considered breaking the rules of writing fanfics? Because I'm unbreaking it as we speak. It's still unbeta'd and it will remained as such bc I'm not attempting another readthrough.

 

 

 

It took a while for the sprained ankle to heal.

Steve knew it wasn’t unexpected, but every single time he moved the wrong way only to be reminded that he had one foot useless, it made him all the more restless and downtrodden.

There were talks about his future whenever Mom and Dad were home. He knew they expected his sports credits to balance his academic ones – yet, when they see the bruised, bandaged ankle and the limped way Steve’s greeted them when they reached home, it was only to admonish him, followed by disappointed sighs.

Not even a concern attention about how he was doing at school, or how he managed to get himself hurt.

Steve really thought it wouldn’t really sting the way it did after all this while, but.

The bell rang and Steve was out of his sullen reverie. He slammed his locker door once he had a textbook out for the next class, not minding who was watching his broodiness. He hadn’t notice Hargrove was staring a couple lockers down from his own, brows furrowing.

“What?” Steve said, grimacing when Hargrove’s stare became too nosy for his own good.

Hargrove’s frown deepened, and if Steve’s had it in him to notice the minute change, it would look like as if the blond was _concerned_. “I’m not supposed to say anything when you vandalised the poor locker, Harrington?”

“Awful hypocritical of you,” Steve replied, already walking away. He was walking with one hand braced on the wall, balancing his body on one foot and dragging the injured one. He should’ve got the cane despite looking like an old man with it, he mused silently, but he hadn’t had the time. He was getting used to walking on one foot by now it seemed unnecessary, anyway.

“Vandalism’s never been my go-to for letting off steam,” Hargrove said nonchalantly.

“Flesh and bones are more like it, am I right?” Steve said, not missing a beat.

The other teen shrugged, like he didn’t care – or felt the need to rectify the statement. “Only those who deserved it,” he said.

Steve’s head turned to face the other boy incredulously. “No shit,” Steve scoffed.

“Should’ve thought before lying about my sister,” Hargrove said, ignoring the look sent his way. Steve would’ve feel baffled at the lack of venom or warning in his voice, only becoming aware of the heavily tinged reminder once they reached their class.

And that was another thing, really – Steve could’ve never figured out how a brute like Billy could take advanced classes a year early, and the same one as his too. Some things were just surprising, he guessed.

Which was also why when the class was nearing its end did Steve become cognizant of the fact that Hargrove had been by his side throughout the walk to the class – and dare Steve to acknowledge it, it felt like the other teen was… attentive to him.

He brushed aside the thought, mainly because it was too ridiculous to even comprehend. Hargrove didn’t have it in him to be _that_ considerate. Did he?

It put an idea in Steve’s head that he might want to test the waters – see if Max’s defences about her brother becoming better by the day were actually legit. It was plausible, of course, to change. But truthfully, he hadn’t really cared about _what_ kind of change Bil – _Hargrove_ – might go through, and to witness it first-hand was probably hopeful on Steve’s part.

So he waited until the class actually ended, made a show of putting everything in motion haltingly, like he couldn’t bear standing on his feet a second longer. It wasn’t _that_ unmanageable, but he saw by the corner of his eyes that Hargrove – who sat a couple of rows by his left, now that he observed – actually hesitated to – to help? He was, to put it lightly, _hovering_ over Steve.

Steve wasn’t about to mention it, though. He played it dumb until they each reached their lockers. Hovering didn’t count as helping, Steve rationalised. Until Hargrove’s offer came and Steve blinked in confusion.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Hargrove twiddled with his lock, before putting his books – inexplicably variant choices and thicker than Steve’s – in. “I _said_ , Harrington, do you need a _ride_ home?”

Steve couldn’t drive the past few days, even though it was the weekend and he had exactly nowhere to be – but the option he was usually left with had been to take the public bus. Which, as it turned out, wasn’t very convenient when the hour stretched because the bus driver was dropping off other people first, since he lived… in a more wealthy suburb than most of the passenger’s houses.

The driver had the gall to _laugh_ when Steve said where he really lived because the man missed the junction _twice_.

Now that he thought of it, the rich (meaning himself) couldn’t be assed about taking public transportations in the near future or whenever (he might reconsider if Dustin was willing to accompany him next time).

Still, could he be blamed for considering Hargrove’s offer? It was _tempting_ , dammit.

“You would do that?” Steve said, sounding convincingly distrustful. Hargrove’s face changed into its customary sneer, although Steve caught a bit of – was that… dejectedness? His jaw visibly _ticked_.

The blond was inching away when Steve thought, _this is going to be weird, Hargrove’s being weird, but holy Jesus fuck it_ , as he frantically called after him. “Yeah, yeah! I could use a ride,” Steve said, nodding at the last minute when Hargrove’s turned back to face him.

“You need, uh…” the other boy mumbled, gesturing at his feet.

“Nah, I can walk,” Steve confirmed. He wouldn’t trip. Maybe his face wasn’t very honest about it because Hargrove just raised an impressive ‘if the elephant could fly’ equivalent and that spoke volumes about how embarrassing Steve could be in keeping his pride intact.

“I’ll catch you, if you trip,” Hargrove said in the end, sniggering under his breath. He sauntered to the parking lot without Steve, but his pace was languid. Steve could at least appreciate the gesture.

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling the playful undertones. “Yeah, well. I’ll let you.”

He ignored the abrupt, sharp cough that Hargrove made out of that declaration.

 

+

 

It was probably not a very good move to offer the ride.

It was probably the _most idiotic move_ to ever crossed Billy’s mind at the moment. The words came before he could even digest it in his head – and fuck if he had the slightest inkling as to _why_.

Two days in since Harrington fucked up his foot, and three days in since Billy felt the need to _help_ – the fucking _poor_ thing. The Friday that Harrington was injured, Billy dropped him to his ginormous of a house – morbidly astonished by the sheer _size_ of it – and silently glad of the convenient weekend that followed would provide.

It just meant that Harrington could use a couple of days to rest.

Monday morning made him rethink how had that weekend turned out. Ste – _Harrington_ , for the lack of better word, was _pissed_ as all hell. Billy didn’t make it a habit to know about the boy’s current personal life – only school’s one, for that matter – but by the end of the day, he succumbed to the urge to find out. His parents were home, was what he heard. His parents were home, and then they _weren’t_ , was the confirmation he needed.

Neglected, then. Not very surprising with rich folks like the Harrington. It was sad, he thought. Dull, even.

But he wasn’t in the place to speak about healthy environment to grow up in, so. Parents could fuck themselves, he concluded. Not that he was going to voice that out to Harrington.

Back to matter at hand. Billy didn’t really have the tendency to help, to be awfully clear. It was just Harrington’s flailing demeanour that made him... _wanted_ to. He _was_ part of the cause that the other was in the current predicament.

He meant the injury – he wasn’t sorry about the verbal, one-sided fight they had prior to it. It was typical banter between rivals. He liked being a cliché, but Harrington seemed to not. But eh, to- _may_ -to, to- _mah_ -to.

Which, then again, didn’t really justify his willingness to give Harrington a ride home.

People were already looking odd their way – dethroned King Steve with his nemesis, casually walking together where Billy could lend him a ride home. He was almost glad that he wasn’t needed to carry Harrington. That would tend to a rumour mill _months_ long.

He could only appreciate the highest Gods that Tommy and Carol weren’t here to witness this too, grateful to a certain class detention that the both of them couldn’t seem to be lacking of.

They reached the parking lot and Harrington pulled a face when he tried to get in the passenger seat. Billy had unlocked the car when he remembered that the handle was jammed. No thanks to a certain redhead. Billy could use a groan out loud when Harrington made such a pitiful attempt to unlock it again.

“It’s jammed. Just – wait a sec,” Billy said. He went in and unlocked it from the inside. Harrington relieved sigh was obvious when he finally sat, trying to reign in his discomfort.

“Should’ve told me you were having trouble walking,” Billy said, starting the car. Pulled out a cigarette though he kept it dangling between his lips.

Steve seemed to be not in the mood to reply, sliding the seat back a bit so he could bend down to sooth the swollen muscle, but he answered steadily, “Managed just fine, didn’t I?”

_Barely_ , Billy thought. He wasn’t going to mention it; felt like it was pointless. He did mention he was picking up Max first, and dropping her off to the arcade second. Harrington nodded absently, didn’t really seem to care. Which spurred him to ask, “What about uh, the kid that you babysit?”

“Oh, Dustin? No, he’s fine. His mom’s around, and he had his bike today. He has stuff to do in the library too, so. All’s good,” Harrington said, going brighter by the second with the mention of the kid.

Billy stared dumbly at the genuine display of _care_ ; his mind shutting off, astray in blank thoughts. It was… strangely eye-opening to witness. He swallowed, knew what this possibly began to mean, the dawning understanding. Jitters that he couldn’t very well unlearn about. This terrifying _flutter_ in his stomach, the obscene _pounding_ of his ribcage.

He hadn’t had that since _California_. He recognised it and he wanted to _curse_ it, he really did.

But then he remembered his mother and the woman she ran away with; when he secretly understood the inclination – the guts that his mother had had to leave his father behind. The guts that seemed to mock Billy now. Oh, how he fucking _hated_ his mother.

Harr – _Steve_ , made him _want_ things. _Maddening_ things.

He was silent all the way to Max, processing; not knowing what to say, not knowing where to start, _if_ , he were to start it. He had _six_ cigarettes during and Steve didn’t even feel to jibe about it. Steve was his oblivious self, unaware of the turmoil in Billy’s heart and _heart_ and _head._

When they reached Max’s school, the girl had stared long and hard at Billy while ignoring Steve’s confuse albeit guilty face when he greeted cheerily at the girl – stares that lasted uncomfortably _too_ long because it didn’t waver from the backseat where she used the rear-view mirror to continue to do it, until Billy parked by the front of the arcade.

Billy made a split second decision to get out of the car before Max could sprint away. He slammed the door at the same time Max swift around to face him, arms crossing.

“Why Steve’s in there?” she said, cutting to the chase.

“Why the fuck would you want to know?” he answered. Which was a mistake because it sounded like it could form ideas that weren’t far-off from Max’s current imagination. The stare didn’t die down, and Billy speculated hard. He didn’t need to lie, per se. It was true that he offered the brunette a ride home – but that was before the dawning realisation that he might be _interested_ in _Steve_. And _that_ made all the difference.

He played safe instead. “He needed a ride home. Can’t drive by himself yet. Happy?” he said, feeling like there were ashes in his mouth.

“I swear to god Billy, if he became the reason we move _again_ –,” Max whispered harshly, and let the words trailed behind. Billy knew what the rest of it implied. Knew that a vein in his temple was well about to burst.

“We’re not gonna,” Billy said, teeth clenching. “And only if you shut your damn mouth and not to tattle to mommy and daddy like the fucking _brat_ you are,” he added, satisfied that it made Max’s face twisted in a dark acknowledgement. A yield.

They both knew the reason they ended up here was that of their own faults. Didn’t make it easier to agree on it; would rather point fingers like the fucking teens they were.

The scornful face he got when Max turned away, flipping him the bird, was enough for Billy. The pressure was lessening by the minute when he heard the car window being knocked. He went back in the car.

“What?” he said, exhausted all of a sudden.

Steve gestured to the seatbelt he was wearing. “Yeah, okay. So I think  _this_ , is fucked up. I can’t get out. I saw Lucas out there, was gonna say hi because I had his comic that Dustin borrowed from him in my backpack and I can’t. Get out,” he hissed, pulling at the belt, increasingly hindered by it. Billy thought he’d _destroy_ the thing if he wasn’t careful.

“You’re gonna ruin – fuck. Don’t fucking do _that_. Fuckin’ sto –,” Billy growled. He didn’t think twice when he leaned over Steve, trying to pull at the seatbelt from its buckle because _sometimes_ –

“I think – it’s. It’s – I’ll try to – uh, ok, would you mind?”

Billy stopped what he was doing when he noticed the inches left between their faces; how Steve’s voice sounded so very _close_. He was so absorbed by their nearness and _Harrington’s_ fucking _eyes_ , that he didn’t realise he was blindly readjusting the buckle around, causing it to snap in its place, startlingly loud. Steve’s hand suddenly jerked to Billy’s shoulder out of surprise.

That was a _brewing_ _moment_ , alright.

And Billy had the sudden clarity it was beginning to feel like _theirs_ , going by the faint pink blotching the brunette’s face.

Fuck if he wasn’t tempted to do something _brazen_. Speaking of which.

He turned around to look at the supposed boyfriend of Max’s, whom he noticed earlier had hidden across the street by a block.

The boy antics at being caught would be ludicrous if Billy himself didn’t have his heart hammering by the minute.

 

 

 


	4. The Boys (Before Will)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a pretty fixation. But it's a wicked temptation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyyy another chapter. Chapter summary came from Tear Me Up to Pieces by Meg Myers. I'll probably use her whole album for Harringrove, lmao.

 

 

 

Being conscientious wasn’t a concept that Steve could grasp easily.

Yet, as days went by, being conscientious of _Billy_ was becoming horrifyingly easier for Steve.

For one, Steve was aware of the decreasing use of his nicknames – something he was eternally grateful for. They weren’t on speaking terms – which never meant that it was ever _friendly_ before, God forbid – but it was, Steve refused in admitting it despondently, fewer than usual.

It had been a week since the… incident… in Billy’s car. If he could call it that – it was more of a surprise, tortuously enlightening circumstance. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Awful, maybe. Nerve-wrecking? _Embarrassingly awkward_.

Not that the conversations they had before were obnoxiously chatty. It used to be a banter here and there. Healthier since the Byers’s. Less mean since Billy was threatened by Max – because Dustin couldn’t for the life of him save his ass for blubbering the truth.

Steve would be remiss if he didn’t concede that their constant bickering was something he treated to take his mind off of the Upside-Down business. Then again, it wasn’t like the opportunity didn’t present itself.

Coach finally gave the permission to get him into practice; but _only_ as a backup player, and even then, the _last_ one to pick. He didn’t really have a chance to take on what Billy’s going to give on the court.

Steve couldn’t even get a post-practice _shower_ to even allow a conversation to happen, wouldn’t even require it when what he needed was just to change out of his sports attire because of how sweat-less and useless he was in practice – If Steve had the time to change early, Billy might not. If Billy finished up first, Steve was generally left with the clean-up duty, and even then, the blond usually was up and about to leave.

He refused the idea that Billy might be avoiding him, because was that even likely? Steve deduced that it was just how it would go the whole week. Attendance to practices was important to Coach, and Steve’s grudgingly accepted it.

The team however definitely noticed their lack of spitfires. Tommy had been awful about it, taunting Steve like a pre-teen schoolyard bully he was, and Steve didn’t even feel the need to cringe at him. He just threw an extra ball when the freckled boy played nasty against another player; knew the move was excusable when Coach didn’t even _try_ to say anything. It was a glorious thirty-seconds.

And suddenly they were out of players, out of _backup_ players, and Steve was the only one left blinking like a deer caught in headlights yet he’d whoop in the air then and _there_ , if he could. So he went diligently. Put his mind to it – put his mind to _Billy_.

And that was another thing – using the other boy’s first name in his head seemed to appear out of nowhere. Which made his speech in return _out-of-sorts_ ; couldn’t contain the need to say it out loud, and maintain his composure at the same time.

When the banter _finally_ came around – Billy’s mouth was sharp, his body cornering Steve the moment he had a second to rethink about planting his feet. But Steve’s came out _cut,_ feisty, and all the more _heated_. He hadn’t meant to sound like he had his tongue lolling by the spur of the moment steam (that was honestly more of Billy’s area), but.

But the _effects_ when it appeared, if Steve wasn’t so hung up about it, were visible on Billy. Billy’s _game_ , he meant.

Billy’s team scored less by two points, a margin too close towards the endgame. It wasn’t much but his own team shouted in a surprised hoorah and for a few minutes the court boomed with the sound they emitted.

But a dethroned king was still a dethroned king, and soon Steve was left alone, laying in the middle of the floor court.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he hadn’t bothered with the rest of them, not since quite a long time, it would feel hugely depressing. But Steve felt stupidly happy; he _rejoiced_ in it. He was grinning alone on the court even when Coach threw an empty water bottle at him, directing him to clean the place up.

Get the _balls_ back where it _belonged_ – and Steve snickered again. Knew he was still Coach’s favourite.

He heard a familiar sound of soft chuckle and momentarily surprised when he lifted his head to see Billy was standing by his feet, which was spread wide in a star-spangled formation on the court floor.

He didn’t immediately get up.

“Can’t get up?” Billy asked, hands gripping the small towel hanging by his neck.

Steve shook his head lazily, not quite diffusing the high from the game, grin in its rightful place.

“Won’t get up, then?” the blond asked, crossing his arms.

He went for a nod, but a familiar ache made itself known, and he shifted to sit. “Ow, shit. Fuuuuck,” he hissed. He had a near panic when it felt like his ankle could _buckle_ from its socket. Billy was in front of him in a second, and Steve was hit with a déjà vu so fierce it felt _destined_. Billy had both of his hands each under Steve’s shoe sole and behind his calf.

“Alright?” he inquired, and there was no doubt actual concern was marring his face now.

Steve shook his head, not trusting his mouth to speak something… else.

“This doesn’t look bad,” Billy said, all sotto voce. Like they were alone – which sounded like they actually _were_. He heard the commotion in the shower lessening. How fucking long had he been lying there in the middle of the court like an idiot? He grunted in unpreparedness when Billy pulled the appendage in a certain angle.

“Okay. Maybe a little strained. You need ointment for this,” Billy said decidedly, before moving to get Steve’s up – like the first time he had his foot injured. Seriously. The déjà vu needed to stop. It was starting to spook Steve. And Steve’s the first to admit that he was very alarmingly, easily _spooked_.

He dismissed the thought because Billy was carrying him again and that wasn’t spooky – more like, twitchy. Uneasy. Up the fucking _wall_.

“Will you curb that face a little, Harrington. God, you stressed me out with it,” Billy said all of a sudden. And suddenly they were in the locker room – not the shower, thank Christ. And the suddenness when Steve’s gotten a head full of yellow kneeling by his front and oh – oh he was actually _sitting_ on the bench, oh. Okay. _Oh_ -kay.

Billy actually snorted, and Steve’s out of his dumbstruck stupor. “Dude, what the fuck,” Billy said, without malice, for once.

“…what?” Steve replied hesitantly. Billy gave him a _look_. What the – what that _look_ supposed to _mean_?

“Jesus. I’m not cut out for this kind of shit,” Billy muttered under his breath; and amazingly was heard by Steve. Probably because of the echo-y nature of locker rooms. Speaking of: it was empty. How _absurdly_ convenient.

“What’s up with your bedside manner, man?” Steve said, feeling more in control of himself. Less deluded. Less foggy in his brain.

Billy didn’t bother replying. He moved to get Steve’s shoe out of his feet, only delayed by the complicated lacing of the shoe strings the brunette did. “Did you ever, _ever_ , tied a shoe in your fucking life?” Billy said, mostly to himself, Steve guessed, but he answered anyway.

“My parents didn’t have that kind of time to teach,” he said, shrugging carelessly. He had nannies to do it before if it counted. Not anymore, though. Though he was actually lying through his teeth because of fucking course he could tie his own shoe – what the fuck Billy took him for, _barbarian_?

But Billy’s pause made Steve second-guessed his intention to share that bit, so he didn’t try to express it.

“Yeah, well. It’s shitty.”

Steve laughed. Mildly surprised it was genuine.

“Guess it is. I could always learn though. Never bothered too. The shoes came readily tied when I bought them – I’m not one to look a gift in the horse mouth,” Steve said lengthily. If Billy wanted to know why, he’d give him the damn _why_. Even if it meant that he was twisting the truth a little.

Except that the why fell short when Billy started to peel off his sock. This didn’t feel like a _why_ to Steve. It felt like a clarification. It was as if Billy was making an anticipatory declaration – that it felt dangerously intimate. Burgeoning _thrill_.

Yeah, right. Okay so maybe Steve _really_ shouldn’t have read the kind of books Mrs. Wheeler kept in the bathtub shelf when he had been with Nancy. Good God, the woman was incredible in everything but her choice of books? _Disastrous_.

Better question was, why the hell was _he_ reminiscing a _scene_ in the book while Billy was unrolling his _sock_?

God _dammit_ , Mrs. Wheeler. (He wouldn’t admit to owning one copy of the book at his house because the cover was _killing_ him, the art was so _good_.)

“I swear to God you have a _ridiculous_ amount of expressions going under a _minute_ ,” Billy said, squinted in bold amazement. “Like you could,” Billy made an inelegant gesture with one hand on his own face, “all of that,” he finished. Like that was sufficient explanation to everything.

Steve stumped his uninjured foot to the side of Billy’s thigh. “Yeah, well. Fuck off,” he jibed without heat.

Billy smirked because that was his go-to response these days, but Steve sighed because that was the illicit response he unintentionally gave when Billy pressed his palm under his foot’s sole.

“Right. Ointment,” Billy said, asked, really.

“Uh,” Steve replied intelligently.

Billy rolled his eyes. “Your locker’s behind you,” he pointed out, like Steve couldn’t have possibly _missed_ something that was _behind_ _his_ _back_.

He still made a quick search through though, propping up a little higher by the one foot that was still loyally uninjured. Once he had gotten a grasp of a short cylinder plastic case, he grinned in triumph.

He barely felt it before but when he returned to his previous position, Billy’s caressing motion was becoming slightly… deliberate. He thought it was because Billy had a plan to rub the ointment to lessen his sore ankle. Nothing more.

Except it was hard imagining it as any less _purposeful_ because God fucking _damn_ that felt like utter _heaven_. No fucking _way_ an ointment non-involvement could make him feel like that; he wondered if it’d be _ten_ _times_ –

“Earth to, Harrington. I’m gonna need that ointment now,” Billy said softly, like he was, like he was _affected_ by this.

Steve gave him the ointment case, belatedly realising that he had gripped it tight in his hand, fumbling like he hadn’t meant to be seen he was sensually responding to Billy’s ministration.

“Maybe you could just, don’t close your eyes for this,” Billy said, his voice croaky, careful, _hesitant_. Steve didn’t know what to make of _that_.

“Yeah, okay. Okay,” he agreed.

And Billy slid his hand around, but Steve’s already a lost cause, anyway.

 

+

 

What the fuck was he _thinking_? He _wasn’t_ , that’s what.

The white substance was thick, gel-like. And it was warm to touch; the increasing rubs only made it even warmer against Billy’s palms.

Steve’s foot was weirdly flattering. Just the right amount of veins, not even that hairy. Long toes, bony in the right places. In fact, his overall legs now that Billy had had the first experience to see it up-close wasn’t as heavily haired as some guys on the team. Even Billy’s body hair went thicker the closer it gets to the crotch.

But Steve had fine strands. So fine that he knew he hadn’t said a word in ten minutes, rubbing the sore muscle intently, fixatedly.

He could only pray that Steve would ignore his unbecoming silence –

“Massaging made you quiet, huh?” Steve said, ironically breaking the silence.

“You tryna chat me up, Harrington?” Billy answered, pressed into the indents between the toes deeper than he meant to. One of Steve’s hand jolted to his shoulder, gripping tight, his leg bending back at the knee – must be painful. He let go after a while, taking small, calming breaths.

“Why did you stop?”

“Do I look like I’m about to stop?”

“No. I mean – the nicknames. You just, uh, call me Harrington all the time, now,” Steve said, averting his eyes. His hands were back on the bench, bracing the edge. It made him look vulnerable; shoulders up to his ears and chest closed in. It was similar to when he had his arms crossed, forearm on forearm, not the standard inward and out. Like he needed to feel protected, by his own self.

Billy took his time in answering because he wasn’t sure he had a valid reason as to why. He just happened not to say it after a while. Beats him to even figure out _when_.

“Felt no need to,” Billy said finally. He glided one palm under the sole and behind it too fast because Steve made an abortive, choked sound.

“Fuck, slow down,” he hissed, exerted by the move, sweats beading on his forehead.

“Alright, okay, sorry,” Billy soothed, pausing abruptly. He didn’t make a move to stop altogether because Steve didn’t say anything about stopping.

So he continued to move slower than before and Steve, for his part, proceeded in making the dirtiest, _filthiest_ sounds when one was getting a simple foot massage. Billy wanted to be turned on, he was kind of starting to anyway, but the part of his brain that cracked up outweighed the turning on part, so he laughed.

“Jesus, Harrington. Cut that shit out, for fuck’s sake,” Billy said, trying not to bend in two to clutch his own stomach. This was the weirdest moment he had had with Harrington to date that it felt unbelievably _surreal_.

To punching his face and now massaging his godforsaken foot? Christ, just let Billy _live_.

“Well I _would_ , if it doesn’t feel so good,” Steve said, miffed at being called out on. So he was probably exaggerating his moans a bit, but in retrospect, it was a pretty awesome massage. He would even try to ask Billy to start with the other neglected foot. It looked so lonely being the loyal, useful of an appendage it was.

“You gonna scar someone for _life_ ,” he said, his chuckle dissipating, though it lingered in the locker room.

“Yeah, well, don’t cream your pants,” Steve said without thinking.

A second passed and they both burst out laughing.

 

 

 


	5. The Boys (Before Mike) - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too many excuses this time, but I'm just gonna point one out -- global fucking warming. Also, I rewrote this chapter like a fuckton of times, the reason why there's gonna be two parts of Before Mike. 
> 
> Part II is coming with probably a rate higher. Yas, right? No? Okay :(
> 
> p/s: Tell me I'm not imagining the plotholes in my fic. I'm crying figuring these timelines for fucking real, my dudes.

 

 

_Three Weeks Later_

The days went by.

Steve thought everything was mundane, like he was wont to do, except whenever he saw Billy Hargrove stepping out of his blue Camaro, strutting down the school hallways, getting his thick books out of his locker – the usual, really, nothing too different about it – he found himself at a pause, incapable of processing, mentally rooted and the days just fucking went into a hyperawareness over that, afterwards.

He didn’t know how to exactly put it, but every fucking time he saw Billy, he wanted to do… something. He wanted to just, move. Make a move. Maybe. But why? Of what?

They were getting along, now, finally – actually building a rapport in the team, and Coach had been exercising methods that would ensure that kind of rapport to stay permanent. Billy had been decent about it – or indifference, he guessed, difficult to tell which.

It was an alright arrangement. Steve didn’t have the heart to make an enemy out of anyone longer than he had to; wasn’t willing to. Even Tommy and Carol were on speaking terms with him now, although they made it obvious hanging out together again wasn’t an option.

(Steve couldn’t very well put it past him that their friendship didn’t break his heart, they were childhood friends after all. But certain things couldn’t be mended so easily.)

Surprisingly, he found out that they weren’t friends with Billy either. That was why Steve kept on noticing how independent Billy seemed to be, scarce of friends but never without followers. He made it look like he preferred it that way.

It didn’t matter that Billy still had reputations within the school – even when he helped Steve during the injured ankle phase, which spiked it as overtly scandalous rumours – it remained a fact that a new ‘hierarchy’ was established when Steve made a reputation of his own to fuel the fire, so to speak.

Steve wondered if that was what the other students thought about when they see the old, king Steve – like he was higher above the rest. Like an actual king. Nancy fall for that one too, wasn’t she? Then again, he got called bullshit and that was the realest thing anyone had ever say to him; he owed his gratitude to Nancy, but he never admitted it still hurt like hell.

But Billy – Billy made the position of being on top like he was untouchable. People saluted him like they actually appreciated his existence, parted ways because it seemed appropriate to do. It was like watching a mystical era of worshipping an Egyptian deity, or something.

Steve didn’t want to do that. He didn’t _know_ what he wanted, that was the problem, right?

He saw Billy and he had this urge, this unusual ache to just – _do_ _something_. Billy watched back sometimes and he had a pretty normal reaction to it; retorts that went over Steve’s head because he couldn’t stop staring and spluttering, seconds too late to make a solid comeback when Billy walked away, muttering under his breath.

Billy called him a spaceman, once. Steve mentally agreed. He spaced out a lot when Billy’s around it was undeniably morbid to experience. Except that it felt a lot more like untimely death was coming when _Billy_ himself called him out on it one day.

“You really gotta stop, man,” Billy said, slamming his car’s door close. They parked side by side again today, Steve observed. It was five days in a row now.

“Uhh… what?” Steve answered slowly, getting out of the headspace he was favouring seconds before.

“The thing you just did? You’ll replace the resident creep sooner rather than later,” Billy said, thumbs hooked in his belt loops – Steve thought that could as well be Billy’s ‘at ease but not pleased’ look. He wasn’t wearing his jean jacket, and his sleeveless shirt was kind of… distracting. Steve’s eyes straying before he shook himself out of it, meeting Billy’s eyes – which he didn’t know could be intense the moment he _knew_ he was caught.

Billy didn’t look mad, though. He looked… rather contemplative. Steve saw his eyes twitched before sighing out loud, shaking his head.

“Alright, get in,” Billy said suddenly, decisively.

Steve blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, get the fuck in,” Billy said, emphasising the words.

“Why… why would I do that?”

“Geez, I don’t know, _Steve_. You look like you have a lot of fucking questions and I’m not opposed to answering them. So if we’re doing this fucking interview, get. The fuck. _In_ ,” Billy growled.

When Steve didn’t move, Billy made a show of walking threateningly forward. Steve didn’t want to admit that he scrambled to get to the passenger’s door, which Billy conveniently left open for him, and not _his own fucking car_ but damn if he didn’t feel his heartrate going faster by the seconds with the order. _Just what the fucking hell?_

Billy changed his gear to drive and swerved down onto the main road, opening the window before lighting his cigarette. “Talk,” Billy said, puffing out smoke through his nose. He looked so harsh like that, in the late afternoon light.

Steve gulped, didn’t know what to do with the sudden situation he was in. It was just so, wholly unexpected. “I don’t know – what you want me to say,” he started, holding onto the dashboard because Billy’s driving like he was insane and he wasn’t above about being one.

Billy hummed, mouth slanted in a distorted way between frowning and smirking. “Try again,” he said, chuckling low like Steve’s not making any sense.

“Jesus. What the _hell_ do you want me to _say_?”

Billy slammed the pedal hard, the engine revved worryingly loud because they were going by 50 now, and Steve recognised the road to lead to the quarry – forests like this were hard to miss, they were like a beckoning force.

“How about – all the watching you’ve been doing… I don’t know, for the past _month_?”

Steve went deathly silent. Shit, he didn’t think Billy caught on that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, deflecting. He adjusted his sitting position and somehow that was enough of a tell when he heard Billy snorted.

“Didn’t I warn you not to fuckin’ _lie_ ,” Billy said, reacting as if it was the most humorous thing he had ever heard. Steve didn’t join the sentiment – didn’t think he’d need the kind of flashbacks about fists meeting the sides of his face. Or plates.

“People watch other people all the time,” Steve reasoned weakly. It was not the argument he was going for, but he wasn’t exactly trying to have one either. He couldn’t even muster up the strength to create one.

“ _Excessive_ watching doesn’t count, Harrington,” Billy said, layback as you like. He had a point, there.

“What is it to you even if I did? Why does it fucking matter?”

“ _You_ have the look like it fuckin’ _matters_ , so,” Billy replied, annoyance building on his face.

Steve threw his hands in the air, like he didn’t know why this was a big fucking deal, so he said it all the same.

“I call _bullshits_.”

Steve didn’t get the chance to say anything to that when the car pulled to a stop and he saw that they were indeed at the quarry – at least he knew the place, in case he needed to get away from, from whatever this was.

For some reason, the silence that followed made the situation kind of mystifying, cloying with unspoken tension. Steve wasn’t scared of Billy, not really. He could hold on his own now, truth be told. But everything concerning Billy needed a clear perspective. He couldn’t justify his reasoning for watching the boy, could he? He didn’t even expect there to be a reason – at least, not negatively.

He watched because he wanted to, and he was beginning to feel like it was one of the things he looked forward to every single day. For no reason. Maybe he was building a habit – he had to have some, right? Billy obviously had the uncanny power to make him look, make _anyone_ look. Which made Steve realised –

“How do you know I was watching you? Out of all the people who were probably doing it as much as I did – wouldn’t it mean that _you_ watched me too?”

“Oh, _really_? You watched me that much?” Billy’s jaw twitched. He looked stressed when he flicked another cigarette between his lips, lighting it like he had done it throughout his life without stopping. Couldn’t be that far from the truth.

“You aren’t exactly subtle, Harrington,” Billy scoffed, answering when minutes passed by without Steve opening his mouth, without him giving in.

“Apparently. But why _did_ you?” Steve asked again, itchy to know.

Steve jerked in surprise when Billy suddenly shifted to face him. They glared at each other for a long time before Billy unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned forward, closer to Steve. The brunette had half a second of abrupt panic to consider retreating into the woods, however ill-advised it was, before Billy whispered, teeth gnashing together, “Guess.”

Steve blinked, confused – by their situation, by what Billy was trying to do. Was this a threat? It didn’t _feel_ like it. This close, Steve felt a déjà vu in the back of his mind. They had been in this situation before – when he was stuck in the seat of a car with the very same owner and the very same unforgiving, confining seatbelt. Billy had looked like he was –

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re _slow_ ,” Billy muttered, squinting at Steve like he was the greatest mystery of all time.

Steve wanted to reply with something equally insulting when he realised Billy had been staring at his face in a certain way, long enough that Steve was reading into it. He looked particularly troubled, _vexed_ and Steve didn’t think he’d _done_ anything to make Billy feel that way. His blue eyes dropped lower, like Billy was taking in what he was seeing, devastated but no less wistfully and Steve swallowed, comprehension slowly dawned on him.

But that _wasn’t_ it, was it? Couldn’t be _it_. There was just _no fucking way_.

Billy started to pull away but somehow, _someway_ , Steve’s hand shot forward to grab a full of Billy’s shirt, stopping him short. Billy seemed as shocked as Steve felt. His hand kept bunching in a fist in the fabric, creasing it like he didn’t know what to do with his hand. Like he didn’t want to let fucking _go_.

Oh Jesus, Steve knew what this _meant_.

“Stev –”

“Stop. Don’t say anything. Just,” Steve mumbled hastily, distraught. Fist turned to palm – Jesus it fucking _quivered_. Why the fuck did it look so fragile-looking on Billy’s chest and why the fuck did it _stay_ on it?

Steve bit his lip, hesitated. He had to say something, the silence was starting to feel dizzying. Of all things to consider, this had to be the universe trying to fuck him over. He was even more distracted when Billy’s hand grabbed the hand on his chest.

“You know, I’d love to sort this shit out, but,” Billy said slowly. Steve could feel the unsteady thumps on the other boy’s chest and it was kind of relieving to know that because Steve felt his own heartbeat going on a rampage here, _what the fuck_ , except Billy tugged his hand closer to him, tighter than necessary. Steve winced in discomfort.

“Uh, Billy?”

“ _Shh_. I just saw something disturbing,” Billy whispered and it was easy to recognize it as cautionary because when he finally looked up Billy wasn’t really looking at him; if anything he looked like he was scouting the area outside. “Fuck, where did it go?” Billy hummed in urgency.

Steve had a moment in recalling the scene at the abandoned junkyard, surrounded by _literally_ out-of-this-world predators. Winds were billowing the trees – correction, _one_ tree – behind Billy and Steve eyes widened comically, flinching in the seat. Steve was starting to realise it was getting way too dark now, but he couldn’t have mistaken the doomed feeling that accompanied it.

As if on cue, a strange form of shadow emerged from behind the trees.

“This is not good. This isn’t good. This is _not_. _Good_ ,” he babbled in mortification because he didn’t want to think that _that_ was a fucking demodog, there. _Didn’t Jane close the fucking gate, already? What the fuck is happening?_

“Billy. You. We – we gotta get out of here,” Steve stammered. Billy didn’t respond so Steve shook Billy’s shoulder to get his attention, except Billy was engrossed with something that was occurring outside and behind Steve.

“Huh, it was just eating dinner,” Billy said questioningly, an octave lower but the way he put it was considerably worrying yet horrifyingly informative because Steve made the mistake of looking into the woods again and, lo and behold, a _fucking_ _demodog_ was crawling slowly towards the car, its faceless, flower-like head dripping with fresh-looking bloods.

Fuck. Fucking shit.

 

+

 

Billy cocked his head to the side, wondering just what the fuck was the animal he was seeing.

It looked so weirdly… deformed. Kind of gross too. He had thought it was a stray dog, maybe a rabid one, on the off chance. But the way the thing was eating, wait, no, _devouring_ the carcass – it couldn’t have been. A wolf, maybe? He was examining the area surrounding the forests – attempting to see if there was a pack of wolves somewhere in their vicinity – when upon returning to look at the same spot, the thing was gone. Was it aware of their presence? Uh-oh.

Steve had gone mute for a while, before Billy caught on the insistent shake on his shoulder.

“ _What_?”

“Real talk – something’s dangerous coming,” Steve whispered. He looked pale and stricken. That couldn’t be good. Billy knew alarmed faces when he saw one.

“Was it a wolf?” he asked seriously.

“No. But I know what it is. Right now, it’s staring at us, and you need to drive,” Steve answered shakily and Billy eyed the forming droplets of sweat in his sideburns.

Billy didn’t waste time, gauging the reaction to be genuine because he didn’t think to doubt his gut on this. The second he moved, the engine was running and his foot was slamming the gas. Barely five feet away and the car suddenly skidded into a halt, tires smoking the soils into clouds of dust as a loud stomp could be heard from behind, instantaneously on the car. Billy caught sight of the thing in the rear-view mirror, having a hard time believing just what kind of fresh hell he was seeing there.

“ _What the fuck was that?_ ” Billy shouted, pressing the gas even harder. It budged and the thing tumbled down ungracefully, an opportunity for Billy to speed away.

“Demodog,” Steve said, looking across the backseats. “Shit, it got up.”

“A fucking _what_ , now?” Billy replied, incredulous.

“ _Demodog_ ,” Steve said distractedly, Billy knew because the boy didn’t seem to realise he had one hand with fingers digging hard on Billy’s thigh, focused on the creature behind them.

Billy gritted his teeth, thinking it wasn’t the time for that kind of thing. He looked through the side mirror and saw the thing rolled on its haunches, shaking its head – headless head, what the _fuck was that a mouth_ , and sprinting wildly at his vehicle.

“It’s trying to chase us,” Billy muttered, trying to get into the main road.

“Yeah, no shit. We gotta kill it,” Steve said. “Reverse the car and hit it,” he continued.

Billy turned to look at Steve like he had grown two heads, before cursing loudly and did just that. Trust Steve fucking Harrington to bark orders to kill strange creatures. Billy reversed the car, bumping it hard enough until they both jolted in their sits. Billy revved the engine again, ready to crash it once more when he saw the unearthly animal laying still in the dirt in front of them.

“Is it dead?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, at the same time the thing wriggled and Billy impulsively drove forward and back _again_ , just to make sure.

“ _Now_?” he said, trying not to sound too agitated or impatient.

Steve shook his head, doubting it. “Fuck, I don’t _know_. I gotta go and see,” he said, apparently decided that killing the thing and making _sure_ it stayed that way was important. “Man, I don’t have my nailed bat,” Steve mumbled, appearing dejected.

“Fuckin’ bat was _yours_?”

“ _Dammit_ , this is bad,” Steve mumbled again, ignoring the line of questions.

Billy cussed loudly, frustrated because just what the fuck was happening here?

“Well shit, right? I’ll just go and get my axe I guess,” Billy wisecracked.

“You _have_ one? Jesus, _now_ you’re telling me? Well, where the fuck is it?” Steve replied, keyed up about fucking _axe_ , of all things.

Billy groaned out loud, getting real exasperated. He untucked another cigarette from its case to light anew, because this was getting too aggravating to handle – he’d need a sure hand to do this. Pretty boy couldn’t have possibly handle it.

“Stay fucking put,” Billy said before he could think any better. He went out of the car, unlocked the boot and grabbed an axe; the wood handle was worn with use but he thought the blade seemed sharp enough, capable in cutting a tree down… probably.

Slowly, he walked forward to where the creature was. The headlights from his car helped him to see what he was about to do as he reached it. This… _demodog_ or whatever Steve said it was, was really fucking bizarre.

There was no face that Billy could clearly see, not even an eye and the teeth extended to the _multiple_ roofs of its palate, limping open, sticky with a mixture of saliva and blood. Its form on a second glance could’ve been mistaken for a dog, for sure, except for the multiple abrasions on the patchy skin. Like it was attacked before. Something more dangerous clearly had its claw on this one.

Billy gawked at it for a second before deciding the aberrant thing might as well cease to fucking exist – what he should he do then, just to be safe than sorry?

He swung the axe.

 

+

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are like, hella appreciated.


End file.
